Weasel Tales
by surfingfiend2685wolfqueen
Summary: A series of Vingettes staring the Toon Patrol, how they formed, what their relationships are with eachother and other silly shenanigans
1. Coughing Up Blood

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Toon Patrol. Or "Who framed Roger Rabbit?"**_

_**A/N: So, long time no see everyone. No, I am not dead, I've just been busy with work and school. Recently I came across an old movie I had seen a long time ago called, "Who framed Roger Rabbit?". I instantly fell in love with the Toon Patrol and noticed how little fan fiction there is out there for them. So, I decided to create a series of drabbles centered around all of them. There will be no OC's in these vignettes. Please enjoy the: **_

**Weasel tales**

**Coughing up blood:**

It was a bright, sunny day in toon town. (Then again, it always was.) Even the sun seemed to be grinning an extra wide smile. At a decrepit, rundown Victorian -style house the Toon Patrol was just awakening.

At this moment Psycho was already up. He had spotted a singing butterfly outside his room and wanted to chase it. The straightjacket wearing weasel crept stealthily out of his room and into the second floor hallway. He noted how warm rays of sunlight were streaming through the window. Getting distracted he walked over to run his paws under the light.

His ears perked up as he heard a distinctive coughing noise in the distance. Standing out of his haunches, the dark brown weasel began investigating the sound. His sleeves dragged on the ground as he bounded through the hallway.

It didn't take him long to find the source, nor did it come as a surprise to him to find that it was Wheezy, standing in the hall gasping for air. Cautiously, Psycho approached the older weasel; knowing full well Wheezy's gut reaction to anyone rushing at him.

The coughing had now turned to heaving. As Psycho opened his mouth to say something the elder, grey weasel just eyed him sternly, silencing any comforting statements the younger might have made. Finally, after one huge heave that seemed to undulate through Wheezy's entire body, the grey weasel spat up blood.

Upon seeing the crimson liquid Psycho let out a yelp and attempted to run to find help. But, the elder weasel rested a paw on his foot with an iron grip, freezing him in place. "Don't need help." He huffed, in a raspy voice. "It'll pass in a minute."

The swirls in the psychotic weasel's eyes had slowed down, as he sat down next to Wheezy. Psycho laid a paw on the other's back, rubbing in a circular motion.

"It's gotten worse." He said in his high pitched voice.

Wheezy glared off into the distance at nothing. The ash ridden weasel closed his bloodshot eyes and said, "I know." Psycho could not fathom why those two little words seemed to weigh so heavy in the air after they were said. Then, he thought of something that he had tried to keep in the back of his mind for quite some time.

Wheezy was dying. Plain and simple.

'Don't think of unhappy things, don't think of unhappy things!'. The dark brown weasel chanted over in his mind.

As, Wheezy attempted to stand Psycho shook himself out of the clouds in his mind. The younger weasel helped him up as Wheezy said, "Lets go to the kitchen. I need some water."

Suddenly, an impending sense of dread rushed through Psycho. He hated the feeling, it reminded him of his time in the toon asylum. It use to come about every time he was taken into the electro-shock therapy room. Unlike then, this feeling was not for his own well being, but, for another's.

Then, before he knew it, Psycho said, "I don't want to loose any more family. I don't want to loose you. Brother." Wheezy just fixed him with a dead pan stare, making Psycho feel embarrassed and very small. The young toon hid himself behind his paws and giggled nervously, more out of habit than anything else.

Psycho heard shuffling and when he uncovered his face he found that Wheezy held him in a embrace. They stayed like that for sometime. The only sound in the world was Wheezy's heavy rasping.

Wheezy broke the silence, "You won't have to be alone anymore. Now that you have the Toon Patrol, none of us will ever leave you." That was so like Wheezy, making promises he could not keep. All the same Psycho smiled.

They both walked through the hall and down the stairs. Before they reached the kitchen Psycho stopped taking one long look at his 'older brother'. He wanted to ingrain how he looked, smelled, and talked into his mind. Just in case.

Musing on such things only made Psycho sad and he hated feeling unhappy more than anything else in the whole wide world. The dark brown weasel made a sour face, as he thought to himself, 'One thing leads to another and then you start thinking about what life would be like if you were alone again Psycho….'

Then, shaking his spiky head he made his way over to the kitchen.

This is why he tried not to think of such unhappy things…..


	2. A Faded Star

**A Faded Star:**

It was a particularly tiring day at the Toon Patrol residence, all ready there had been many incidents that morning. Smartass took off his hat and rubbed his head, "I'm taken a break." He huffed, as he closed the door to his private office. Day after day, the work just never seemed to end, and now with having four weasels in the house it made Smartass feel more like an overworked parent than a law enforcer.

The toon threw off his jacket. Light poured into the office in small slits though the blinds, it seemed like the perfect time to do something that always de-stressed Smartass.

Stealthily, he made sure that no one was around and he pulled an old projector out of his closet. The Toon Patrol leader played the reel and sat back in his chair. A black and white cartoon appeared on the wall. A weasel character was running atop a train, there was an evil bull that was twisting his mustache, while a female weasel was slung over his shoulder. In typical cartoony fashion the damsel in distress screamed and the villain laughed. Then, the weasel hero ran up to the bull and beat him up until he lost all of his teeth. For good measure the hero threw in a couple of extra punches until his damsel came over to stop him. Still, the weasel saved the day! Smartass watched with a searing leer.

The pink clad weasel muttered, "If, it weren't for dat rabbit I woulda….."

But, there was no point in fuming over it any longer, the weasel hero was not ideal for most audiences. The studios wanted cuter and fluffier characters, this toon just had too much grit. Maybe, things would have turned out differently for this weasel if he had been given the chance to show his stuff, maybe he would not have always been the villain, he could be a hero, _if_ he wanted to.

Smartass sighed as the phone rang, "Whadya want?" He sneered. It was Judge Doom.

When, the conversation was over the weasel put down the phone. He smirked, forgetting all about his fatigue.

Smartass smiled as he opened the office door, "Boys it's time ta hunt a rabbit."

Vengeance was sweet.

**A/N: Hi everyone, long time no see. I have wanted to write this drabble for a while and I finally sat down an penned it out. I do believe that Smartass, underneath his tough exterior, would be sort of nostalgic. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed. I may add one more this week, as far as the rest, we will have to see.**


	3. Nightmare

**Nightmare:**

Despite the fact that Stupid worked around dip constantly did not mean that he was unafraid of it.

One evening Stupid was all alone in the Acme Factory. His boss had told him to fill up the giant container on the dip machine with…you guessed it, dip. He was just pouring in the last barrel, the weasel was balancing carefully on the thin rim of the containing unit.

Suddenly, he lost his stance and fell foreword. The large weasel clutched the rim tightly. His heart was practically thumping out of his chest. He looked down at the half-filled container. He closed his eyes tightly, then finding some inner strength he pulled himself up. The poor creature was so shaken that he ran across the makeshift ramp and sped out of the factory as fast as he could.

Ever since then, he tan-furred weasel steered clear of the toon-killing mixture.

Many times since then Stupid had nightmares of falling in the dip container and being erased. The most frightening parts of his dreams are that no one cares when he disappears.

**A/N: Here is a chapter for Stupid weasel, the more I write for him, the more I seem to like his character. ****J**

**It may be a while before I add another drabble to this one. I'm currently finishing up two other stories right now. I hope you enjoy these three so far, peace out. **


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